Kiss Kiss
by betteroffred
Summary: A reader literally just asked me if Stormer (in Picture Books) knew about Roxy's little fling with Pizzazz. It just so happens I'd written a short story about that very thing! Here it is, just a quick little Stormer one-off. This would take place before Jetta joined the band, and features Clash. Thanks to ANorth for beta reading!


I had only left the patio for a minute, just to go get us another bottle of coke and a lime to mix with the rum we'd been drinking all night. Just a quick trip to the kitchen and back, although it wasn't so quick because I was a little tipsy and giggly and things just take longer that way. I came bouncing back out to the patio but never quite made it. I stood there, frozen in the shadow of the doorway, half shell shocked and wholly envious, watching them kiss.

"I didn't know whether to just leave 'em or barge in on their action, either," Clash said from somewhere behind me in the foyer.

"Huh? Oh... oh, yeah," I sighed, and glanced back out by the pool. Pizzazz and Roxy probably wouldn't care if I burst back out onto the patio bearing drink supplies, would probably just wave off their spur of the moment make-out session like it had never happened and just pick it up later, but... but... But they were only clad in bikinis to begin with, and in the two seconds I'd stood there mulling over what to do, Pizzazz had lost at least half of her bathing suit to Roxy and... Well, there was no way I was going to interrupt them now.

"So which one is it?" Clash asked me.

"Huh?"

She crept up behind me, peered over my shoulder, a sly little leering grin on her lips. "Which one are you lusting over? Pizzazz or Roxy? Or both?"

The question caught me by surprise, and I blushed. God, was I that transparent? "I... I don't know..."

Clash giggled. "Shut up. You've totally got the hots for Roxy," She informed me. "I've seen the way you look at her."

The way I looked at her? The way I was looking at her now, I'd probably be going to hell. Spying on them, even if they were out in the open like that, was rude and wrong, and... I couldn't pry my eyes away from them.

"Pizzazz says she's absolutely incredible with her hands," Clash happily shared that bit of gossip. "But go figure, way she plays guitar, of course she's gonna be good with her hands. Dexsh... dexterity," Clash giggled and hiccuped, slurring her words a little.

That thought made me a little light headed. In all my fantasies of Roxy, we had never made it past kissing. Roxy has such pretty full lips she kept painted like bright magenta-red rose petals. I spent hours imagining the feel of her lips on mine, delicate sweet kisses... Of course, the real Roxy was rough, aggressive, she didn't do 'sweet', and I'd seen her kiss enough of girls to know that her idea of delicate was throwing you up against a wall and attacking you, sort of like the way she and Pizzazz were devouring each other now, like there wasn't enough time in the world for them so it better be fast or not at all. In my mind, it always started out that way with her, too, but then... but then something would kick in, things would slow down, and she'd be... not necessarily gentle, but... sweet. That wild passion would still be there, but it wasn't just raw sexual aggression so rough it was nearly violent. No, in my fantasy, when I imagined kissing Roxy, she was in love with me, and it colored every kiss, every touch. In my mind, I could spend hours just kissing her.

In reality, it was a good day when she looked at me and smiled.

"I like Pizzazz more, but damn... Roxy's so... hot!" Clash giggled as we watched them. "She's not a bad kisser, either, but she kinda hates my guts so I never really get anywhere with her. I should never have spiked her Tab that one day on the movie set..."

"You've kissed Roxy?" I asked, shocked and suddenly green with envy. Roxy barely spoke to me, never had anything nice to say and I was a full fledged Misfit, yet she'd kissed Clash? Clash, that she couldn't stand most of the time and constantly harassed about being an annoying groupie slut? I was devastated.

"Sure, a few times," Clash said it so casually, like it didn't mean a thing to her. "We were at some bar after a show and-"

I couldn't hear her any more. My heart ached, my head throbbed, and I couldn't get over the fact that Roxy had kissed her and not me. Not me. Not. Me. God, was I that horrible? Was I totally invisible? And then I realized, "She hates me." My happy giggly buzz was totally crushed and the thought nearly had me in tears.

"What? Who?"

I shook my head absently. "Nothing," I sighed, biting my lower lip. I glanced poolside again and nearly wept.

"Nothing, my ass," Clash giggled and put her arm around my waist. "You look like a love sick puppy."

"Shut up, Clash," I said, mouth heavy with frown.

She flashed a little devious smile at me. "Bet I can cheer you up." Clash dipped her mouth to meet mine, and I gasped when our lips made contact. She pulled away giggling at my expense, but all I could do was stare at her in stunned silence. "Jesus, Stormer, loosen up!"

"What?" I squeaked.

"Loosen... Up," Clash touched my cheek with delicate finger tips, her expression turned inquisitive and darkly serious and then she smiled again. She kissed me one more time, slower, softer. My head was swimming in the darkness of the foyer, drowning in rum. She pressed me against the wall, fingers in my hair, hands on either side of my face, and I breathed her in, all of her, and kissed her back.

I had forgotten how nice it was to be kissed this way. OK, so it had been, like, nearly a year since anyone had kissed me, period, but oh... to be kissed like this, like you were wanted, desired...

"But you're in love with Pizzazz," I pulled away from her, again a little shocked and suddenly wondering how on earth she could do this with anyone other than the person she wanted to be with.

Clash giggled. "So's Pizzazz," She licked her lips and stared at me hungrily. "But I love all the Misfits."

The way she said that made me blush and she laughed at me again and suddenly I felt like such a child next to her. Clash was, like, a year or two older, actually... but it wasn't because of the difference in our age. She was just so much more like Roxy and Pizzazz than I was, most of the time. In all things but musical ability it felt like Clash was more of a Misfit than I was.

She kissed me again, but I pushed her away. "I can't do this," I cowered against the wall, clutching the bottle I'd gone to retrieve to my chest like a shield.

"Why? Cuz you're in love with Roxy?" Clash chuckled at me. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Roxy doesn't do love. She doesn't do relationships. I mean, at most... you might get her to fuck you, but, like, really Stormer? Roxy's way into Pizzazz. You're not really her type. You're just too... too sweet, ya know?"

My cheeks burned red-hot, my self esteem crumbled to dust. I wanted to die. I shoved past her and ran up to my room, slammed the door behind me and locked it. Drunk and devastated, I curled up on my bed and sobbed into a pillow until I passed out.


End file.
